Funf
by 25queen
Summary: Includes: RaitoxL, LxMisa. Five themed peices.
1. Something or Someone Cherished

**Note: **This was an exercise I decided to put myself through, a few months back. I did twenty themes and picked my five favorites. I tried very hard to make the meanings subtle, but I'm not that great at that, unlike some of the other authors that I share this space with … Ah, well, I hope you enjoy.

Something/Someone Cherished

Watari was an important member of the Kira investigation team. Non-descript with his face like a discarded tissue and handlebar mustache, the dowdy old gentleman had the ability to blend into any situation, alone and unnoticed. This was his worth: collecting and retrieving without anyone being the wiser. He doted on Ryuuzaki like a proud parent does a favorite child. The detective had merely to ask, and it was done. He never hesitated to say 'please' and 'thank you', but these were graces conditioned in every child, for the purpose of social promotion.

Watari's real token of appreciation came in a half-eaten box of chocolates on his birthday, with a note that read 'For a cherished companion' in handwriting that was not Ryuuzaki's own. Growing senile in his old age, Watari would find his face discracefully wet, every year when he sighted the long, white box outside his doorway.


	2. Electricity

II. Electricity

L always sat in a modified fetal position, knees drawn inwards, toes curled like loaded springs. It was true that it improved his mental prowess, but it also protected him from things about which he chose to remain ignorant.

Raito's touch was a rude awakening, shocking L's limbs into their full length, sending something paralyzing lapping at every nerve. L would stutter, gasp, whisper, or cry out for more or less- or for a halt altogether. Raito was heedless. He was an endless fuse box, powered by firing synapses and L's ragged breathing.

Afterwards, L would slowly, systematically re-curl his body; the whites of his eyes a little wider, fingertips blackened.


	3. Urban Landscapes

III. Urban Landscapes

The Tokyo skyline had always awed Aizawa. The way the buildings shot up to rip at the sky, towering, teetering, with bodies too powerful to stand straight much longer. He had to roll his head back to see the faint gleamings of the highest windows, as if trying to discern Heaven in the black velvet sky. Aizawa walked with an upturned face, Matsuda looked at the steaming pavement, hands jammed into his pockets as he blinked away the grit stirred by their marching paces.

For Aizawa, this was a nightly reminder of his insignificant mortality. He wondered if Matsuda felt the same, though he was not witness to the same perspective as Aizawa. "Matsuda?" he asked, barely audible over the city's dulled roar. "Do you believe in God?"


	4. Technology

IV. Technology

It was incredible, the capacity of the zoom on the surveillance cameras. L could count Misa Amane's every eyelash, the freckles on her doll-like face, the ridges on the flesh of her drowsy lips and the ten seashell fingernails. Closer, and there were the pores of her glowing cheeks, each bursting with an iota of life that cameras couldn't capture. A small, secret, covetous part of L wondered what it would be like to touch her.

He reached a beseeching hand, hungry for the texture and warmth. The battered fingertips bumped against only a flat, blue screen, a faint tap to match the pixilated sighs of her breathing.


	5. Empathy, end

V. Empathy

Raito had come across a little bird. It had fallen out of its nest, several feet above, still in its shell. The feeble yellow beak beat in and out of a silvery membrane, struggling for breath. Raito promptly crushed the peeping little creature, despising the weakness and frailty. It was Misa who crashed to the grass on her knees, scooping up the little creature gingerly, sharp with fragments of shattered shell. "I put it out of its misery", Raito explained patiently to her, as if she were a child.

Later that same day it was Raito who crashed to his knees to gather the fallen L in his arms, that pale and peaked body mercifully intact. Initial elation took a tailspin as Raito watched the life finally drain from his opponent's features, his beating heart loud in his ears. There was an awful symmetry between L and that mangled little aviator. His guileless dark eyes were wide and penetrating, even in death.


End file.
